


Autopilot

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 05:13:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1456771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre loses his first patient. Courfeyrac is there to comfort him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Autopilot

Combeferre is on autopilot.

Combeferre has been on autopilot ever since the constant beep of the flatline, since he was pulled away from the operating table. He vaguely remembers the sad look his attending gave him, remembers being told that it's not his fault. He's sent home and doesn't even remember how he gets there, doesn't remember getting into his car and driving. He can barely think about anything except for the flatline. He still hears it at the back of his mind, refusing to leave him alone, much like the guilt weighing down on his shoulders that makes it difficult to breathe, difficult to even get out of his car and walk to the door.

When he does, he finds Courfeyrac waiting for him in their apartment. Combeferre knows that Courfeyrac is meant to be at the library with Enjolras, working on an assignment tonight. Joly must have called and warned him in advance. Combeferre will have to thank Joly for that next time they see each other. He stores that at the back of his mind, along with the flatline, the need to apologise to his attending, the other doctors he was on with. Combeferre feels that he owes a lot of apologies.

Combeferre stands in the doorway, not sure what to say, not sure what to do, not even sure what to _think_. Courfeyrac's eyebrows are drawn together and he looks just as devastated as Combeferre feels. Courfeyrac is wonderfully perceptive and Combeferre is extremely grateful for it right now. He has absolutely no idea how he would explain himself at the moment and Courfeyrac knows him well enough to know that, to simply open his arms without a word because he knows that's what Combeferre needs.

Combeferre crosses the room in quick, long strides and collapses into Courfeyrac's embrace, letting out a shuddering breath.

Courfeyrac stands there, holding onto him tightly, before he finally speaks. "Come on, let's sit down. We can talk about it if you want. Or not, if you don't want to."

"Thank you," Combeferre says thickly, letting Courfeyrac take his hand and pull him towards the couch. 

There's already a pot of Combeferre's favourite peppermint tea waiting on the table, because Courfeyrac is amazing like that. Combeferre drops his gaze to his hands as Courfeyrac pours the tea into the two waiting cups and pushes one towards him. He feels guilty accepting comfort from Courfeyrac when he doesn't feel that he deserves it.

Courfeyrac, who knows him better than anybody else in the entire world, chooses that moment to lean over and kiss Combeferre's temple. "It wasn't your fault. You know that."

With a hollow laugh, Combeferre shakes his head. "Try telling that to the family. She had a husband, Courfeyrac. He came with her in the ambulance. She has two children at home, who don't have a mother any more. I promised hat I would do everything I could—"

"And you did, darling. You did everything you could and maybe that couldn't save her in the end but it's better than giving up on her beforehand. You did what you could. It's okay. It's okay."

Combeferre doesn't even realise that he's crying until Courfeyrac brushes the tears away with his thumbs. "It's not okay. I should have—I don't know. I should have worked faster. I should have done _better_."

"Shh, no, stop that. I know that you did the best you could."

"But my best wasn't _enough_."

"Stop that, Combeferre. You were working in emergency and she got into an accident. It's _not_ your fault. Say it with me."

Combeferre sighs heavily. "Courfeyrac—"

" _Say it_." Courfeyrac gives him the sort of stern look he usually only uses on Enjolras. "It wasn't your fault."

"…It wasn't my fault."

"Again."

"It wasn't my fault." Combeferre presses his lips into a thin line. "It wasn't my fault. I did everything I could."

Courfeyrac settles into Combeferre's lap and holds him close. "Good. Again."

"It wasn't my fault." Combeferre whispers it this time, wrapping an arm around Courfeyrac. "It wasn't my fault."

Courfeyrac smiles at him and Combeferre manages a smile in return. They stay close, just like this, cuddling as they sip their tea.

"I love you," Courfeyrac tells him, setting their empty cups down on the table before wrapping his arms around Combeferre's shoulders. "You're amazing and intelligent and you're good at what you do. Please don't give up on it."

Combeferre shakes his head. "I won't. I can't let myself give up now, and definitely not because of this. I'm going to keep going. I'm going to get better at what I do. I'm going to learn from this."

Courfeyrac beams at him. "See? This is why I love you so much. I love you because you're always so determined, because you don't let things get in your way. I love you so damn much, Combeferre, I hope you know that."

"I do," Combeferre replies, resting their foreheads together. He has absolutely no idea what he did to deserve someone as good as Courfeyrac in his life, let alone to have Courfeyrac as his partner and one of his best friends. He's never going to take this for granted. "I love you too, Courfeyrac. More than anything."

It doesn't fix anything and they both know that. Courfeyrac is well aware of it. Combeferre can see it in his eyes, in his smile, even as Courfeyrac hugs him tightly. The important thing, Combeferre supposes, is the fact that he knows Courfeyrac is right here for him. He knows that Courfeyrac will take care of him, will support him in the face of his own guilt and remind him that this wasn't his fault, that he did all that he could, until it sticks.

Combeferre knows that Courfeyrac wishes he could do more to help, to _fix_ it, but Combeferre already feels like a better person than he did when he walked through the door. That alone is more than enough. He can't even articulate how grateful he is but with the way Courfeyrac is holding him, he doubts that he needs to. Courfeyrac already knows.


End file.
